


there are some debts you'll never pay

by jonphaedrus



Series: intervention [2]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Elantris - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, I may have a problem, M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, cries slowly into my ice cream, looks into the camera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a balancing act, three ways, three people, three forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there are some debts you'll never pay

**Author's Note:**

> lays facedown in a wet mud puddle and cries

Hrathen is pinned between them, muffling what sound like pleas into Sarene’s mouth as Raoden fucks hard into him, one of the older man’s hands holding tight to Sarene’s waist and the other clenched white-knuckled in the sheets as Raoden’s pace pushes Hrathen into her a stutter-start faster than he planned, and she sighs in utter contentment, her fingers tangled in his dark hair, clenching down hard around him just to hear Hrathen beg, his brow furrowed and tight as he ducks into the safety of her shoulder, and Sarene comes when he does, Raoden gasping, his eyes open behind Hrathen’s shoulder and staring at her face as she comes apart, her nails scoring red red red marks down the older man’s back.

Raoden between them is always gentle, Hrathen down between the King’s legs, one hand pinned on his stomach to keep him flat to the bedspread and Raoden always cries when someone sucks him off, and he would be much louder now if he wasn’t tongue-deep inside Sarene, and her hands shake where she’s hanging onto the headboard, crying out in short little gasps as he sucks on her clit, yelping in pleased surprise when he gets two fingers up inside her. Sarene has her fingers tangled in Raoden’s hair and she’s dragging him closer, pleading for him to let her, just a bit more, oh please, oh please and she’s trembling hard when she orgasms, spasming wet all over Raoden’s lips and chin even as he clutches tight to her thighs, shaking and muffling his cries against her sex when Hrathen finishes getting him off, his eyes squeezed shut in a half-rictus of too much and not enough all at once.

When Sarene is between them, Raoden always lets Hrathen go in front, mostly so she can watch his face. The first-time rapture has never left his eyes when he slides into her, like she’s something otherworldly, and Sarene gasps when he settles home, one hand looped around his shoulders to steady himself on his powerful thighs, her breath near-held as Raoden pants harshly behind her and pushes, up, up, into her from behind, until her mind whirls, “Please,” she whispers, her body coming apart at the seams, trembling up from her core. “Please, please,” her fingers would leave bruises on Raoden’s skin when she grabs him by the back of the neck if they could. She comes a first time like that, them just splitting her apart, one in front and one behind, and she comes a second time when Hrathen ducks his dark head and mouths at her oversensitive nipples, calloused fingers working them both to peaks, his hot mouth on her, and when Raoden comes inside her groaning against the back of her neck, he hangs on for dear life as he reaches around to the front and rolls her clit between his fingers until she comes three times and its too much, almost too much, and Hrathen follows her over the edge, whispering her name into her skin and she’s full, so full, inside and out.

Apart, Sarene and Raoden make slow love in the darkness on their balcony, her laughing into his skin and he fucks her long and deep, and she traces where she left a scar on his cheek once, holds tight to his back, and hisses him in time until they come apart together, shared laughter on their lips, fingers tangled and bodies twined.

Hrathen always watches her face. He’s not even in her, just rolling hard against the lips of her, cock red-hot, and he watches her face. He watches her face when he’s inside her, watches her face even when it’s his head between her legs and she struggles to remain upright, to let him, her body coming apart and her fingers white-knuckled in his hair. When she lets him come inside her, on the rare occasion, he holds her like a goddess and sobs brokenly into her breasts as he rocks up and through it, loathe to leave her for even a moment.

Raoden and Hrathen are always different together, when she isn’t there. Sarene catches them in the King’s office once, Hrathen bent double over the desk, muscles standing out in his broad arms while Raoden is pressed along his back, their skin near-sealed together, and she watches in quiet awe of them, how tight they move together, all one body, and wishes she could join. Instead, she finds herself smiling when Raoden reaches up and Hrathen takes his hand, their fingers tangled together tight over the older man’s hip, and they shake in tandem.

It’s a balancing act, three ways, three people, three forces.

They mesh.


End file.
